


Innocence Lost

by The_Procrastinator



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Gen, Kid Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Feels, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, Red Room (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 21:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18837118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Procrastinator/pseuds/The_Procrastinator
Summary: Natasha had been trained to never fear. Fear was weakness, and weakness wasn't accepted at the Red Room. Now, though, she was terrified.





	Innocence Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nausikaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausikaaa/gifts).



> Written instead of revising for my exams, like a smort person. Hopefully going to become part of an extended series of pre-canon/origin story fics that work with MCU canon, as well as replacing some of the later stuff because honestly, the MCU is good but there are many things I want to change.
> 
> Thanks to Alex (@orinscrivello) for beta-reading / letting me scream ideas at you.
> 
> Feedback is welcome, especially ideas for where to go from here.
> 
> Enjoy!!!

Natasha didn't remember a time before the Red Room. In fact, if you asked her, she didnt have one. She couldn’t remember a time before she was chained to the bed every night, before she’d lost her parents, before her training began. 

 

When she was younger, Natasha simply did gymnastics, athletics and ballet, with occasional games to foster competitiveness and teamwork. As they’d aged, however, they’d moved on to martial arts and combat training. The first time she’d held a gun, she was 7, standing in the courtyard, pointing it at a mannequin. Her hands hadn’t shook at all as she’d pulled the trigger, not an ounce of fear in her body. Fear was not permitted at the Red Room Academy. 

 

Now, though, she was terrified. 

 

It was her first real mission, the first time she’d ever left the village surrounding the academy, the first time she’d been given this much responsibility. It seemed like a lot to ask of a 9 year old, but she was sure Madame B wouldn’t give her a job she couldn’t manage. The mission itself was simple: infiltrate the Canadian Embassy, steal some documents about someone staying at the embassy, and get out. Lethal force was discouraged (the goal was to not get caught in the first place, after all) but allowed if absolutely necessary. That, in itself, was enough to make Natasha nervous. Though she’d seen a lot of dead bodies, once even being locked in a cupboard with one, she’d never been in a life or death situation, never killed. She didn’t fear death as such, but she wasn’t all too keen on uncertainty, and death seemed pretty uncertain.

 

There was one other girl on the mission with her, Alina. She got along with her well enough, but they weren’t exactly close. She was far from the most talented student, and definitely not Natasha’s first choice of mission partner. Still, she was very glad that she wasn’t alone.

 

Everything had been going just fine: they’d been dropped off a few streets from the embassy by Madame B, sneaked in through a window, navigated the maze of corridors leading up to the file room and picked the lock. Small scratches outlined the lock from where Alina had attempted to get in, before Nat took over and got it in one try. She waited impatiently outside, watching for guards while Alina searched for the specific folder that they needed. Though she was listening for anyone who might discover their presence, her mind was somewhere else completely. Over the past few month, they had been training to divide their focus between multiple things at once, which would be incredibly useful for covert espionage. Mostly, though, Natasha used it for getting away from the monotony of her life in the academy, escaping into the fantasy world she had made in her own head. 

 

Today, she was imagining herself to be a normal girl. This was a favourite of hers. She imagined herself with parents, and a brother, living in a normal house. She imagined what it would be like if she wasn’t aware of what a dead body looked like, if she just spent her entire life wearing pretty dresses and playing with dolls and being innocent. of course, she didn’t have a very good understanding of how that would work, but it was still nice to pretend. Natasha was just starting to consider what it would be like to go to school and have normal friends when she heard an almighty crash from behind her, in the file room. She froze solid, listening for a moment, and sure enough, she could hear running footsteps from the floor above, as well as a clattering from the stairwell that suggested another guard was nearby.

 

Shit. (Natasha had only learned the expletive the previous week, after hearing one of their trainers say it upon losing to Madame B in a fight, and it very much seemed to fit this situation.)

 

At a guess, she had no more than 30 seconds before the first of the guards arrived. Even if Alina did find the file and get out in that time, they had no chance of getting out of the corridor unnoticed. 

 

They were going to have to fight their way out of this. Natasha had fought before, of course, but  this felt different. She’d never fought an outsider before, only members of the academy, and staff. For a second, she let the fear overtake her, and her knees shook slightly. She took three deep breaths, then mentally ran over the chant she had been taught to help her manage fear. 

 

I have no fear, for fear is the little death that kills me over and over. Without fear, I die but once.

 

Now calm again, she reached for the knife that was holstered against her spine, and hid it against her wrist, making sure she looked suitably sweet and innocent, her defensive stance hidden by her long, modest dress. When the first guard rounded the corner, she was ready. 

 

“Please, sir, I’m really lost, help me.” Her English was smooth and clear, though her accent was distinctly British, and not Canadian (her accent lessons were still a fairly new addition to her curriculum, and they had yet to cover anything else). The guard froze, obviously confused at why a young British girl was wandering the corridors of the embassy this late at night. He took a cautious step towards her, hand still resting on his holstered gun. 

 

“What are you doing in here?” His tone was more worried than suspicious, and for a split second, Natasha thought she might get through this without having to hurt him. Which was, of course, when the file room door swung open to show Alina, looking very rumpled, holding a file-folder in front of her.

 

Bozhe moy, could this go any more wrong?

 

The answer was apparently yes as, at that moment, another guard walked into the corridor. The first guard was already unholstering his gun, and at this range, there was no chance he’d miss, no hope of escape unless…  

 

Time seemed to slow for Natasha, as she flipped her knife round in her hand and leapt into action. 

 

Her first move was to knock the gun from the hand of the guard with a well-aimed kick, catching it deftly in her free hand. With a careful flick of her wrist, the knife flew forwards, embedding in the left eyeball of the now disarmed guard. 

 

He fell to his knees, screaming and and grabbing at his face. His shaking fingers wrapped around the knife handle and pulled; blood sprayed everywhere, thouroghly coating Natasha. She heard a dull thump behind her, but ignored it in favour of moving on to the next guard.

 

Now, she had truly found her rhythm. She allowed the gun to fall from her hand, unwilling to draw further attention to herself with a gunshot. The last thing she needed was more guards rushing in. The remaining guard was roughly 20 meters away, and pointing his gun straight at her. She dropped to the floor, landing on her hands and started to flip across the corridor, keeping her body curled into a small target and zigzagging slightly. In seconds, she was crouched at his feet.

 

One sharp kick had him on the floor beside her, his gun clattering away from them. He aimed a punch at her, but in his prone position, his aim was off, and she easily dodged him. She wrapped her thin arms around his neck, squeezing until he stopped moving, then a bit longer, just to be sure. 

 

There, she was safe.

 

It was only then that she thought of her mission partner. Their training had taught them to help each other in fights on mission, and for Alina not to have stepped in was very odd. She glanced around the corridor, which is when she spotted the most terrifying thing she had ever seen in her life. 

 

Alina was lying in a pile on the floor, soaked in blood, clearly not conscious. From this distance, Natasha couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. She ran over to the other girl, dropping down beside her. Natasha sighed, thank God, there was a pulse. A quick glance over the visible skin yielded no signs of wounds, and there were no obvious tears in her dress, either. As Natasha reached under Alina, ready to roll her over, the other girl began to groggily come to. 

 

Hastily, Natasha dragged her to her feet. As much concern as she felt for her, there simply wasn’t time to waste checking she was fine. She propped her up against the wall while she retrieved the folder, grabbed her hand, and rushed out. She was careful to be light on her feet, though the same could not be said for Alina.

 

Fortunately, they encountered no further guards on their way out, making it all the way back to the car unhindered. They clambered in, careful to only touch the bits of the car that had been covered with sheets since they left, so as not to bloody the interior. Madame B had clearly planned ahead. As the door clicked shut behind Alina, Madame B rotated in her seat to face the two girls. 

 

“Were you successful?” The tone of her voice was cold and emotionless; even though the woman was effectively a mother to Natasha, the voice still sent shivers down her spine. 

 

Natasha passed the file over and lauched into a mission report, keeping any hint of feeling from what she was saying. Emotions weren’t a good use of a spy’s time. As she explained finding Alina unconcious, a slight frown formed on her mentor’s face. She turned, directing her attention to the other girl. 

 

“How did that happen, Alina?

 

She flushed, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “I panicked. When the man’s blood covered me…” she shook visibly as she spoke, “...it was too much. I just passed out. I’m so sorry, Madame B. I was weak.” A single tear rolled down her face. The older woman reached out, stroking her hand across Alina’s face.

 

“Oh, my poor child, it’s not your fault. I’ll fix this.” Without breaking eye contact, she reached into the glove box, grabbed something, and before Natasha could process what it was, fired a bullet into Alina’s head, at point blank range, straight between her eyes. Natasha gasped as the limp body crumpled down besides her into a pile.

 

“It’s okay, Natasha. You were strong, you were good. I’m proud of you. I won’t hurt you.” She gave Natasha a soft pat on the head, and then turned around and started to drive. As the city faded into the distance behind them, so too did Natasha’s innocence. 

 

\----------

 

It was only that night when she was getting handcuffed to her bed that the numbness started to fade and she the fear truly started to set in. What if she slipped up? What if she ended up like Alina? She could have prevented this, she could have saved the other girl, if only she'd shut her mouth.

 

That night, and every night after it, Natasha didn’t have her usual dreams of happiness and innocence. Instead, she dreamed of monsters and death, and the ghosts of those she had killed dragging her into hell with them.


End file.
